


And A Bed That’s Too Big (Because You’re Not in It)

by MissMorwen



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Pining, Shameless Smut, Sleep Deprivation, why am I still not over the pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-02-23 13:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13190835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMorwen/pseuds/MissMorwen
Summary: When Natasha woke from having fallen asleep for the second time during movie night, the first thing she heard was Tony whisper-shouting, “No, no, no, don’t wake her,” from across the room.That wasn’t what had woken her, but she was thankful for the distraction all the same. Because of it, the pair of blue eyes in front of her were focused on Tony instead of her, leaving her time recover from the shock of waking up to the Winter Soldier kneeling in front of her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Elizabeth Hewer's poem xvi](http://asrielsarchive.tumblr.com/post/50164245463/xvi).
> 
> Beta'ed by the amazing [mbuzz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mbuzz/pseuds/mbuzz).

Objectively, what happened was this: Natasha fell asleep during movie night at Avengers Tower. She didn’t react well to being woken up afterwards.

Even if that was simplifying it. And she got that most people didn’t have a survival instinct so ingrained that even unconscious it reacted with bared teeth. She really did.

But the people in the room with her weren’t like most people. She wouldn’t have fallen asleep if they were. Several had seen war. All of them had fought to survive at some point. Yet she woke to a hushed silence where Stark was putting himself between her and Pepper. And Pepper actually let him. Natasha didn’t want to look back at where Banner had been sitting, but she assumed he was still in control of himself. Hulk would have dealt with her already if he wasn't.

At least Rogers had stayed calm. Despite the knee Natasha had him pinned to the floor with and the knife at his throat, his pulse was steady and even.

With glacial-slowness to not startle anyone, she pulled the knife back and switched her grip on it, laying it flat on the palm of her hand. Non-threatening. Not disappearing it into her clothes. Danger had passed, she all but shouted at them.

Clint came to her rescue, saying, “So, I think we can all agree that next time we either go for less boring films or more caffeine. Preferably both.”

Natasha sheathed her knife, stood, and held out her hand to Rogers.

He took her outstretched hand and smiled. It didn’t look happy. “No harm done.” He stood and didn’t rub the red line on his neck. “I’m sorry I startled you, Natasha,” he said and damn him if he didn’t sound like he meant every word of it.

Autopilot came to her rescue. Whatever answer she gave him, it made him smile again and nod.

She left directly after. Not because she was embarrassed at her reaction, quite the opposite. Despite what the others thought, it really was a matter of perspective. Her reacting badly to being woken up wasn’t important; that was just a fact of life. It was that she had dozed off at all. While surrounded by people. Most of whom she hadn’t known a year ago.

Clint caught up with her before she reached the elevator and slipped in behind her with a smug smile. “Just a heads up. She's gonna tease you about this for years.”

“Don't tell her, then.” Her voice was even despite the warmth curling in her stomach.

“You know that's not happening. Can't keep secrets from her.”

When he didn't react to her stare she said, “You see the dichotomy in that, right?”

He shrugged, completely unfazed. “It feels nice, though, doesn't it? Trusting people.”

“It's like you don't know me at all.”

He shrugged again, ignoring the flatness of her voice.

Natasha didn't fidget or pull out her phone to check for messages, but only because doing so would prove his point. Despite her unwillingness to admit it outright, he was right: it did feel nice. Even as it scared the shit out of her, it felt good to be around people she trusted enough to lower her guard.

“Does this mean you're going to move in?” Clint asked, breaking her silent reverie.

She snorted in response.

“You have to admit, Avengers Tower is a pretty swanky address to put on your business card.”

“I don't think spies are supposed to leave business cards. It goes against the whole spy thing.”

Clint bumped her with his hip when the elevator doors opened and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they left the elevator. “Still,” he said, and she didn’t have the heart to argue.

The receptionist’s eyes went wide when she caught sight of the two of them, and Natasha slipped her arm around Clint’s waist, like she hadn’t noticed it.

“This is doing wonders for my reputation,” he said after they had exited the building.

“Yeah, Laura’s a lucky girl,” she said dryly, like it wasn’t her who’d come up with the idea in the first place. Nobody would suspect the guy sleeping with the Black Widow to have a secret family.

“Well, she has you as a friend.”

“And now you’re getting mushy.” Natasha disentangled herself from Clint and began to walk away from him, towards where her car was parked a few blocks away. She looked back over her shoulder at him before she crossed the street and said, “Say hi to her and the kids when you get back home.”

“Laura wants to know when you’re stopping by for dinner again.”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

“Soon,” she repeated, loudly enough to be heard over the traffic.

“I’m making Lila call you if you don’t set a date by tomorrow at the latest.”

Like that was a bad thing. Like Natasha wouldn’t gladly listen to the little girl rambling on for hours. But Natasha didn’t answer, didn’t even look back at Clint, she just waved half-heartedly at him and wondered, not for the first time, what she had done to deserve people like them in her life.

 

* * *

  

After the dust settled, after SHIELD fell, after Avengers Tower became the New Avengers Facility, and the Avengers themselves had their ranks diminish and swell, movie night remained. And somehow, so did the memory of her somewhat extreme reaction to being woken up.

So when Natasha stirred from having fallen asleep for the second time during movie night, the first thing she heard was Tony whisper-shouting, “No, no, no, don’t wake her,” from across the room.

That wasn’t what had woken her, but she was thankful for the distraction all the same. Because of it, the pair of blue eyes in front of her were focused on Tony instead of her, leaving her time recover from the shock of waking up to the Winter Soldier kneeling in front of her. What had woken her was a warm hand resting lightly on her bent knee. Barely there, but it still sent warm tendrils through her body. She calmed her features, and even managed to quirk a smile as Barnes withdrew the hand and stood.

“You need be more careful, Tin Man. The last time Cap tried to wake her up, she almost gutted him,” Tony said.

“Slit his throat.” Natasha’s voice was thick from sleeping, unwilling to corporate with her. “If you're going to out me like that, you need to keep the facts straight. My knife wasn’t anywhere near his stomach.”

When she looked back at Barnes, he had switched on his Kind and Approachable (tm) smile. “Can't say that I blame you,” he said. “Been there a few times myself. He's a slippery fucker to pin down.”

The statement was so unexpected a startled laugh escaped her, and the warmth of his smile reached his eyes for a second, then he turned away and moved towards the door.

With him out of the way Natasha breathed a little easier and with the lowered adrenaline, felt every twinge of her protesting body as she stretched. Sleeping in the otherwise comfortable chair had been a bad idea.

For a brief, insane moment she contemplated sleeping in her quarters at the New Avengers Facility. Quarters furnished with the things she had picked out in a catalogue when her quarters had been a floor of the Avengers Tower and hadn’t thought about since. Had only been near the few times a year she decided to stay the night because she was too tired to make the trip home.

It was, of course, ridiculous. And not just because she abhorred the idea of living at an address as widely known as the Facility. She couldn’t stay while Barnes had his own quarters so close by. She was glad he had chosen to join them and live at the Facility. He deserved a spot among the good guys. He deserved to have finally found a place he felt safe enough to stay still and people who trusted him enough to use those finely-honed skills of his. But seeing him on a daily basis was an unwelcome reminder of their past, and one that neither needed. He was better off as he was, with no knowledge of it.

She collected her things, said her goodbyes, and left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha has trouble sleeping, Bucky likewise, and Wanda asks a favor.

Sleep didn’t come easily to Natasha. Not that night nor any of the nights that followed. This wasn’t new. She had always had problems sleeping, it was one of the consequences of having a past painted red with blood. What was new was how many nights in a row this recent spell of insomnia lasted. She had tried all her usual tricks. Creating a comfortable cocoon with warm milk, and blankets, and guns at the ready. Not going to bed unless she was tired, getting up if she didn’t fall asleep within half an hour. Exercising until she could barely stay standing. None of it helped.

So perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise that her evening run landed her outside the Facility.

She stopped well short of reaching it. Where it was still possible for her to turn around and head back. But she didn’t. Once she caught her breath, she ran on. Past the security checkpoint, past the main entrance, and the living quarters, to the backend where the gym was located. She had come all the way out here, she might as well use her time in a productive manner.

The gym looked empty at first. Few people were insane enough to go work out at 2 AM. But when she entered, she saw Barnes in the corner, beating the life out of one of the reinforced heavy bags.

She didn’t disturb him, instead she crossed the floor to the matted area where the dumbbells and weights were stored. When she was halfway there, the pounding stopped, and she risked a sideways glance to see if he’d noticed her. He had, of course he had. He steadied the heavy bag with a hand and met her eyes.

“Oh,” he said and wiped sweat off his forehead. “Hi.”

“Trouble sleeping. Thought I might as well do something productive,” she said, answering a question he hadn’t asked.

He grimaced and nodded. “Yeah.”

A thought rose unwanted at the back of her mind. She squashed it with practiced ease. She nodded and walked past at a brisk pace.

Muscles warm but not feeling particularly limber after the long run, Natasha began her routine with a series of stretches. The loose hoodie she had thrown over her leggings and sports bra slipped over her eyes a couple of times, but she felt no compulsion to strip down. Not with the two of them alone in the vast, empty space. After just a few minutes, the strain of muscles and the precise movement of limbs centered her enough to ignore it. Being physical had always had a calming effect on her.

It wasn’t like a dance, despite the romantic idea that her ballet training made her a more graceful fighter. Dance was based on sequences and rhythm – predictability got you killed in a fight. Muscle memory, however, was everything. It didn’t matter if you had a knack for it or were the quickest thinker in the world, if your arm didn’t know how to block a punch without asking your brain first, you might as well get used to getting hit.

It didn’t help that compared to the rest of the Avengers, Natasha was shorter than all, weaker than most, and severely lagging in the augmented department. If she didn’t have her routines down, she was as good as dead.

So she spent hours training, if not every day then at least every other day, to keep her body as sharp as the knives she wielded, and her aim as true as her guns.

When she finished her workout, there wasn’t a dry spot on her workout clothes. A shower would be nice, a change of clothes even better. As luck would have it, she was pretty sure both were available in her quarters. Natasha cleaned the area she had been using and headed towards the exit.

She didn’t look at the heavy bags to check if Barnes was still there, but as she neared the door, she heard footsteps following her. More out of habit than curiosity, she glanced over her shoulder to see him walking towards the exit. He fell into step next to her once he caught up, and held the door open for her.

“Didn’t know you were staying here,” he said and added, “Tonight.”

“I wasn’t. Thinking about doing it now, though.”

Barnes looked at her incredulously. Like he had caught her lying when in fact the bone deep tiredness had made her more truthful than she’d meant to. He nodded. “Sleep well. I mean, I hope you manage to.”

Insomniacs unite. She smiled. “Yeah. You too.”

They walked in a silence considerably more comfortable than she would have thought it would be. Perhaps because of the shared late-night-workout, perhaps because both of their brains were addled by the lack of sleep. In any case, Natasha managed a small but appreciative smile once she reached her door and was rewarded with one in return.

She even allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of it once she had closed and locked the door behind her.

After a short but thorough shower, she didn’t even consider going back to her apartment, but headed straight for the bed she hadn’t used in almost a year and fell into deep sleep.

  

* * *

 

When Natasha woke the next morning, she felt like a new person. She had slept through the entire night, or what had been left of it, and was well rested for the first time in what felt like years, possibly decades. Every muscle ached, but in a muted sort of way that she could easily ignore. All the cobwebs were gone from her brain. She felt like she might solve the problem of world peace if she really put her mind to it.

Breakfast came first, though. And as the unused kitchen at her quarters only held coffee and vodka she had to go to the lounge and kitchen area the Avengers shared, if she wanted anything to eat before leaving.

She hummed while she got ready to go outside. If she’d had a radio, or knew where the one she possibly had was, she might even have turned it on. But that would be like admitting that this was her place and there was no way that was happening, well-rested or not.

She met Wanda and Vision as they were leaving the lounge.

“Nat,” Wanda greeted her with a big smile and a hug. “You have a meeting today?”

Natasha sighed theatrically. “Mandatory appearance. I’ll lose my claim to it if I don’t sleep in that place at least once a year.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Wanda grinned. She looked up at Vision and some kind of communication passed between them, but Natasha couldn’t tell if it was a manifestation of Wanda’s power or simply the closeness that some couples shared. “Do you want company?” Wanda asked when she turned her attention back to her.

“I’d love it,” Natasha said and meant it, including Vision in her smile.

He returned the gesture with a bow of his head and said, “I unfortunately need to be elsewhere.”

Natasha dug out her phone to pretend to look at messages when Wanda turned to Vision again. She had already checked it before she left her quarters, but it gave her something else to look at as Wanda tiptoed to kiss his cheek and whispered, “See you later,” before they parted.

Both seemed unwilling to let go of the other one’s hand and Natasha didn’t bother hiding her smile.

Wanda’s cheeks reddened when she saw it.

“You two make a cute couple,” Natasha said to give her an out. “I’m concerned about the age difference, though. He’s a bit young to be dating.”

Wanda huffed out a short laugh and elbowed her, embarrassment forgotten. The two of them walked into the lounge together.

After Natasha had prepared and wolfed down an entire plate of scrambled eggs with spinach, bacon, and toast, Wanda looked at her like she wanted something. Or wanted to say something.

Natasha tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’ve wanted to ask you for a while,” Wanda finally said. “Since you’re here today, could we spar? Could we…” She raised her hands and mimicked boxing. “Unless you have plans.”

“Sure. I’ll need to wash my workout clothes first. Can we do it in a couple of hours?”

“That would be great.” Wanda breathed out a sigh of relief. “I didn’t expect you to. You know. You always seem so busy.”

Natasha’s flat in NYC was closer to the Facility than Thor’s domicile in Asgard, but somehow she didn’t manage to spend much more time here than he did. “Can I ask why?” she said to cover for her feelings of guilt.

“I had this dream where I lost my power.” Wanda wiggled her fingers and red light jumped between them. “It didn’t end well. And I know that’s not likely to happen, but I still want to be able to fight back if it did. Not just defend myself. Can’t hurt, right?”

“No, it can’t,” Natasha answered with a sympathetic smile.

She didn’t ask why the training Steve already put them through wasn’t enough anymore. Steve was a great instructor. Not just because of his infinite patience, and intimate knowledge of fighting and the human body, but also because he had been in almost as many fights before he got the Super Soldier Serum, back when he had been a scrawny kid begging for trouble. But he wasn’t a woman, and he didn’t fight dirty the way Natasha did.

When they got to the gym Natasha had to explain why they wouldn’t be sparring that day, not really. What they would do was practicing techniques, going back and forth until Wanda could do them in her sleep. Then they would begin sparring. She didn’t tell Wanda that the last part wouldn’t be for a long while.

Wanda agreed readily, and they began with her showing Natasha the techniques she had memorized and worked from there.

It helped that Wanda was an apt pupil. While her main strength was magic-based, or whatever that red energy she controlled was called, the regular training with the other Avengers meant she had built up muscles and agility her small frame belied.

They kept at it for a few hours.

“Let’s call it a day,” Natasha said when she had to correct Wanda’s stance for the second time within a minute.

“A day,” Wanda said with an exaggerated sigh. “Let’s call it a week,”

“If you wanted it easy, you shouldn’t have asked me.” Natasha grinned at her. “And we need to stretch before we leave.”

The string of curses that followed showcased a wide variety of the most creative swearwords the Sokovian language could muster.

After they had stretched, Wanda asked, “When are we doing this again?”

“You probably won’t be able to move tomorrow, so how about the day after?”

Wanda’s face lit up. She had probably expected this to be a one-time thing. “Great,” she said and gave Natasha a sticky hug.

When they were leaving, Natasha noticed that Barnes had come into the gym while they had worked. He was busy going through his own routines and she allowed herself to take a closer look at him while they walked past. He looked good. Like really good. The dark circles under his eyes were gone and the long lines of his body relaxed in a way she hadn’t seen in his time here. She realized belatedly that she was staring and looked away abruptly to find Wanda looking at her with a small smile on her face.

Thankfully she didn’t comment on it and Natasha managed to get all the way back to her apartment without making an even bigger fool of herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wanda contiues being the best (even if Natasha doesn't always agree), and the pining gets so bad other people pick up on it.

Even with two days of rest, Wanda didn’t look like moving was that all that comfortable when Natasha met her in the gym. Natasha did her best not to appear amused.

“I have discovered muscles I didn’t even know I had,” Wanda greeted her.

“That’s how you know you’re alive.” Natasha grinned. She might not look the part, but she could play the merciless drill sergeant if she wanted to.

“Oh, don’t give me that or I’ll call you when I can’t get out of bed tomorrow.”

“Nuh-uh, the training’s free, extra services are gonna cost you.”

With the stretches Natasha put her through, Wanda had good reason to complain, but she only ever grunted a few times when a new position put extra stress on sore muscles.  Natasha was more than a little impressed. After they had worked out all of the tension and most of the soreness, Natasha allowed the other woman a brief respite while she refilled their water bottles.

When she returned she found Wanda chatting with Barnes. His back was to her, so she could study him without him noticing it. His hair was a mess and his shoulders tight with tension. She would put good money on the bet that there were dark circles under his eyes.

She circled them, to avoid approaching him from his back and his eyes, lined with the expected dark circles, were on her before she greeted him with a soft, “Hey.”

A wry smile appeared and disappeared in a blink of an eye. “Hey yourself.”

In the awkward silence that followed, Wanda rolled her shoulders and said, with just a hint of reluctance, “We should get back at it.”

This time the wry smile was allowed to stay longer as he said, “She putting you through the wringer?”

“It’s even worse than that. I asked her to.”

“Smart decision. You should pay close attention. She knows what she’s doing.”

It almost transported her back to the Red Room. Back when she, as a newly minted Black Widow, had yearned for the praise the Winter Soldier so seldom offered. Even now, when she had proved her worth many times over, Natasha was her own worst critic when it came to mistakes. Failure wasn’t an option. Weakness got you killed.

Squaring her shoulders against times she didn’t need reminders of, Natasha got back to teaching skills she had spent years perfecting.

 

* * *

 

Afterwards, Wanda invited her back to her place for dinner.

“It’s the least I can do. Since you won’t let me pay you for the training,” Wanda said when she didn’t accept right way.

“Training friends isn’t something I’m going to charge them for.” Natasha shot a glance at her.

“So, dinner it is? I was planning on making zharkoye.”

Faced with Wanda’s most fearsome weapon, her giant innocent eyes, she relented. “Well, how can I say no to that?”

They made dinner together. Or rather, Wanda made dinner while Natasha helped. For the final preparations, though, Natasha was firmly instructed to get out of the kitchen, and she used the time to study Wanda’s home. Because it clearly was just that: a home. Nothing as impersonal as ‘quarters’ could ever be used to describe it. The mixture of old and new was impressively tasteful, as was the combination of colors. If anyone with half her gift for putting things together had tried to copy her style, it would have become a muddled mess. Even the collections of knickknacks complimented the furniture instead of just taking up space.

A book on the coffee table caught Natasha’s eye. Plain off-white cover with only the title, author’s name, and publishing house printed on it. So worn it looked like it might fall apart if she tried to open it. She picked it up, carefully supporting it so that none of the pages might fall out, to see if it smelled like the one she used to own. It did.

Wanda brought her back when she entered, carrying a tray with two giant bowls of stew as well as a smaller one with sour cream and some black bread. In all, enough food to feed a family of five.

“Excellent pick,” Natasha said and put the book back.

Arranging the plates, she said, “Oh, it isn’t mine. Vis says that reading first editions is the only way to really experience a book.”

Natasha poured wine for both of them and sat. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed with the fact that he picked Anna Akhmatova or that he reads Russian poetry at all.”

“I’m pretty sure he reads all languages. Speaks them too,” she said stirring the stew with a proud look on her face.

“Yeah, I’m still getting used to having the AI who used to watch me shower walk around in human form, so that doesn’t really faze me.” Natasha skewered her first bite of the stew and blew on it before she dared eat it. It tasted even better than it smelled.

Wanda smiled apologetically. “Does it help that he’s told me his life as Jarvis feels more like a half-forgotten dream, than part of what he used to be?”

“A bit. But it also makes me want to recommend a certain Phillip K. Dick novel to him.” Natasha didn’t bother hiding her grin.

“Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?”

“You know it?”

“Tony gave it to him on his first birthday.”

Natasha looked up at the ceiling. “Of course, he did.”

“He means well.”

“I’m sure he does, I’m just kicking myself for not coming up with it first.” Natasha did her best not to inhale the zharkoye now that it had cooled a bit. “I think I need the recipe.”

“Of course. I’ll send it to you.” Wanda looked at her for a long while, bit her lip, then said, “What is it between you and Bucky?”

She should have seen the question coming miles away. “I— What?” Was all she managed.

“He’s clearly sweet on you and you’re always so. I don’t know. Polite, when he’s around.” Wanda said, smiling sweetly, oblivious.

“There’s nothing between—” She choked on his name.

“The two of you have history, don’t you? Is that why you’re—"

“Stop.” Natasha realized belatedly that Wanda had been referring to Odessa or maybe D.C., not when he trained her in the Red Room. She tried to smile to soften the blow, but it sat like a mask on her face.

Wanda frowned. “I misread you. I’m sorry. I was just trying to…” She looked down her long, brown hair hiding her face. She sighed and looked up again. “Friend stuff. Girl talk. You know.”

“I know. I’m— You just caught me off guard.” She looked down at her food. There were droplets of stew on her fingers. She took a paper napkin and dapped at them and at the drops on the dark wood of the table. “I’ve heard the, the ex-soviet assassins jokes. I know the rumors about me sleeping with just about every other Avenger. But I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

Conflicting emotions flashed over Wanda’s features. Even as a distraction, it had been a low blow and perhaps a bit too low, but it worked all the same.

“I’m not saying _you_ shouldn’t. Your nick doesn’t suggest you kill men after you sleep with them,” she said instead of an apology.

That earned her a wry smile. “I’m dating an android. I think I’m also the subject of a fair share of rumors.”

“Don’t forget he’s a minor, too.” There was still food in front of her. Eating it would make her look like a functional human being.

“Actually, he’s a legal adult. He has the papers to prove it and everything.”

“Does that mean he has a legal name? Other than Vision.”

“No, Vision is his legal name.” Wanda paused, looking at her and Natasha prepared herself for a second blow. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here for you,” she said, suddenly as apt at double-speak as Natasha was. “The rumors, I mean.”

Sure she did. “I would offer you a glass of vodka for dessert, but,” Natasha said, changing the subject yet again since the joking clearly hadn't helped, this time with a friendly ribbing.

“I could go for gin, if you know where to get some.”

“It’s your lucky day.”

Natasha helped clear the table, then left Wanda to the hard choice of which dessert to pair the gin with.

Because of the late hour, the hallways were near empty and the quiet walk helped Natasha clear her head. When she neared the lounge Steve’s voice greeted her before she even reached the door.

“And then, then Morita said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, I was here the entire time.’”

Laughter spilled out, bubbly and warm, and Natasha didn’t need the visual confirmation to know who Steve was telling the Howling Commandos story to. She got it anyway.

Half-way draped over the breakfast bar, laughing so hard his face was all scrunched up, Barnes sat facing the door. The dark circles from earlier in the day were still there, but the posture infinitely better. The company clearly did him good.

She knocked on the doorframe, announcing her entrance.

“Oh, hey. You’re still here.” He blinked and said, “I mean,” but didn’t continue.

Auto-pilot kicked in, loading the first vaguely relevant joke that came to mind. “Mandatory appearance. If I don’t sleep here— ah, a few times a year. I’ll lose my spot on the team.” Reusing jokes. She was more rattled than she’d thought.

If her stumble hadn’t convinced her that she needed a whole list of new jokes memorized for whenever Barnes had her tongue-tied, the confused look did.

She nodded at Steve in greeting, said, “Just picking something up,” and continued past them to the bookcase near the back of the room. Yeah, Barnes was clearly sweet on her. That was why he looked surprised every time he saw her. Why he was always so awkward around her. She positioned a footstool by the second to last bookcase and stepped on it to reach the highest shelf. After removing a couple of books about Parisian fashion in the late 18th century, she pulled out a bottle of gin.

Steve was still looking at her when she returned. “You hide hard liquor in a bookcase?”

“Well. Not me personally, no,” Natasha said, her features already carefully blank.

He laughed. “Guess that’ll teach the owner not to keep secrets around spies.”

“Oh, no. I’m perfectly fine with people keeping secrets,” Natasha said, very aware of Barnes’ eyes on her. “It’s the secret alcohol that I have a problem with.”

“I should tell you about the beer I have in the fridge, then.”

“Beer in the fridge isn’t a secret, Steve,” Barnes said, his voice flat. “Besides, I’ve tasted it, it barely counts as alcohol.”

The Winter Soldier’s sense of humor had often been sharp, much like himself. Bucky Barnes on the other hand had several times displayed a drier sense of humor. An ungrateful part of her liked that change in him.

“Well, you’re not getting any more of it, that’s for sure.”

Natasha liberated a lime and some tonic from the kitchen and prepared to sneak out as the two sniped at each other like an old married couple, but Steve’s voice caught up with her before she reached the door.

“Natasha? You here in the morning?”

She turned to face him. “Maybe. Why?”

“I wanted to run something by you, but you look like you could use a couple of hours of sleep before that.”

“Thanks, Rogers. So kind of you to notice.”

The look he gave her could turn rain forests into deserts.

“Okay, fine. I’ll be here when you want to talk.”

He smiled, and she smiled in back, but left without working up to anything more than a wave in Barnes’ general direction.

  

* * *

 

Natasha kept her promise. After she and Wanda had had their gin and she had deposited the now slightly less full bottle in the bookcase, she went to her quarters and slept soundly through the entire night.

In the morning, she texted Steve and they agreed that she would pick up some coffee on her way to him. A happy compromise between her instant coffee and the stuff he called coffee, but which she suspected was laced with meth, at least judging by how jittery she’d felt the last time she’d drunk it.

As luck would have it, there was a nearly full pot of freshly brewed coffee ready. She poured it into one of the fancy stainless steel coffeepots and refilled the machine. While she worked, Sam entered, heading straight for the coffeemaker.

“Sorry, just emptied it. There’s some in the pot if you can’t wait for it to finish brewing.” Natasha pointed at the pot she’d left on the counter.

“Nah, I’m good.” Sam settled at the breakfast bar. “Did you catch the news yesterday? I swear, I wish I knew what those protesters— No, scratch that, I’d rather not know what goes on in the minds of people like that.”

She grimaced and joined him. “Was it bad?”

“No worse than usual, but I’m betting Hydra has recruiters at every so-called rally. Picking out potential recruits.”

“I have no doubt.”

“It seems like easy pickings, doesn’t it?”

She didn’t hear Barnes’ approach because Sam was talking, and it didn’t take much to mask his footsteps even when he wasn’t working. But suddenly there he was in the doorway, hair still damp from a shower that she really didn’t need to think about, blue eyes gray in the morning light and mercifully not lined with black shadows. He smiled when he saw her, and she forgot Sam was even in the room.

“Morning. You’re looking good,” Natasha said and did her best not to swallow her tongue. “Well rested, I mean.”

He stayed perfectly still for a couple of hour long seconds. “Yeah, slept through the night. It’s the damndest thing.” Long strides took him over to the breakfast bar near them. His jeans hung low on his hips and she really shouldn’t stare at them like that.

The coffeemaker pinged and she licked her lips.

“Anyway,” said Sam and left them to their awkwardness as he went to get some coffee.

Natasha’s oversized tee slipped off her shoulder as she turned back to face Barnes, but she didn’t really think about it until she saw the way his jaw clenched, the way the lines of his body had gone rigid. She hadn’t thought about it because her shoulder hadn’t bothered her since the wound healed and the scar had long since faded from pink to silver, the pucker of otherwise smooth skin barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for. Unlike the other scar he had given her. The one that had taught her that no words could bring her Soldier back.

How could she be so careless?

Natasha almost said something, the words only held back by tightly clenched teeth. Even well rested she wasn’t prepared for that conversation. Not here. Not with Sam listening. Barnes would probably argue anyway. Like she had, when Clint had tried to have that very same conversation about guilt and innocence. Instead she turned to pick up the waiting pot and cups from the counter like she hadn’t noticed his look and said, “I should be going. Steve’s waiting for me.”

He nodded mutely and she fled. Like she’d fled the Red Room at the first opportunity she’d been given, leaving him in the hands of monsters while she ran toward freedom. At least this time there weren’t any monsters and Sam would probably catch him if he fell.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha takes some time off to feel sorry for herself and Bucky foils her plans.

Natasha was almost relieved when they got the call about a Hydra attack. If it wasn’t for the victims they left in their wake, she might even have sent them a thank you note.

After days of Barnes not meeting her eyes and sometimes even fleeing the room, it was a relief to do something more than just take out her frustration on the gym equipment. Even so, she felt somewhat less relieved when she was caught out in the open, facing a missile aimed at her. Natasha had spotted the guy with the missile launcher about a second before he curled his finger around the trigger. She hadn’t been left with a lot of choices and dove behind the nearest car with a curse.

The car shielded her from the explosion and stopped most of the shrapnel. But only most of it. A single piece, about as wide as two of her fingers and nearly as long, made it though. Her suit had as much luck with stopping it as the shrapnel ripped through her pants and then muscles, embedding itself in her calf. She snarled and twisted, aiming for the bastard. Only to find him already on the ground, head half gone.

She surveyed the area, searching for hostiles. No one close enough to do her any more damage, only a handful a few hundred yards to the west and Sam and Steve were already heading their way. They could deal with them as she checked her bleeding leg.

As bad a shield as the car had been, it still offered a place to sit with at least partial cover from hostile eyes. Natasha groaned as she lowered herself onto the backseat. The shrapnel had torn into her, but the bleeding had slowed already and she could flex her foot, so no major arteries or ligaments torn.

Movement snatched her attention away from the wound and she looked up. Barnes. He stopped several paces short of her, rifle in hand and his gaze darting from her to their surroundings. Vigilant, even when faced with clumsy teammates.

She lowered her gun and wished her reaction to him coming to her aid hadn’t been relief. “Anyone left?”

“Being taken care of.” His eyes darted from her face to her leg and back again. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. My pride’s the only thing that took any real damage.”

He frowned. She could almost smell the disappointment coming off him in waves. Couldn’t be easy to be one of only two super soldiers on the team. Had to make up for the weaklings.

Tony’s voice over the coms interrupted any reply he might have had. “Since the rest of you have decided to slack off, I just wanted to let you all know I’ve taken care of the stragglers.”

“All by yourself? I’m not sure your suit is equipped to handle the load of your ego,” Rhodes came immediately after.

Natasha filtered the group chatter out and looked at Barnes. He hadn’t moved from his spot, standing a few yards away. She got to her feet, keeping her face carefully relaxed to avoid flinching when she put weight on her injured leg, and nodded to him. He returned her nod before he loped off to somewhere he might do some good.

What use was a sniper and hand-to-hand expert if he had to waste his time guarding inept teammates? About as much as a spy with a bleeding heart. 

 

* * *

 

To add insult to injury, Natasha’s managed to catch the flu while her leg was still healing. A bad case of it, too. Maybe it was true what they said about it hitting you harder as you got older. She felt like a truck had slammed into her, and then her head had bounced off the curb just to rub it in. She wanted to crawl into a cave made of blankets and pillows and not get out till she could think straight again.

She almost made it all the way through a call to Wanda cancelling that week’s training sessions, but as she was about to end the call she had a coughing fit.

“You’re cancelling because you’re sick?” The frown was almost audible through the phone.

Lying would be easy. Easier, at any rate. “Yeah,” she admitted.

“Can I… You want me to come over with some soup or something?”

“I’m not at—” Another coughing fit interrupted her. “I’m at home. In my apartment. And I really just…”

“You want to be left alone.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You do what you need to do to get better.”

They ended the call, and Natasha crawled back under her blankets, intent on not getting out from them within the next week.

At least that was the plan.

After four days of answering text messages by repeating that she was fine and she just needed rest, there was a knock on the door. She almost didn’t answer, but the knocking came again.

With a blanket wrapped around her shoulders she made her way to the door, half expecting Steve to be there. She really hoped he wasn’t. He was supposed to be touring VA offices with Sam and Rhodes and she’d hate to turn him away after cancelling that. She’d do it all the same.

Perhaps that was why she was relieved when a glance through the peephole revealed Barnes standing outside. It couldn’t be because she was glad to see him. She was sick, but not that sick.

Natasha slid back the deadbolt and unlocked the door.

He looked tired, stretched thin, the angles of this face sharper than usual. For a second she thought that maybe Steve had been hurt, but the half-smile lighting his face up told a different story. And maybe she should reevaluate how sick she was because she smiled back at him and gestured for him to come in. He looked almost as surprised as she was.

Somewhat paralyzed by the sight of him maneuvering around her in the narrow hallway, his big boots on her carefully picked-out rug, and his shoulders brushing against the coats hanging on the coatrack, Natasha didn’t notice the brown paper bag. Not until he turned left into her kitchen and placed it on the counter.

Like a nervous tick, Barnes pulled his fingers through his hair and cleared his throat. “I, um, brought you chicken soup.”

“Thank you?” she said, a little annoyed at how her voice had turned up at the end.

“My mom always made soup with we were sick. For Becca and me. And for Steve. He always said it almost made it worth being sick,” Barnes said not quite meeting her eyes. He must have caught her expression anyway. “I didn’t make it. I bought it at that Ukranian place.” He gestured like he was pointing at it. Or at least the direction it lay.

She nodded like she had any idea what he was talking about.

“You want it now or should I?” He pointed at the fridge.

Natasha sprang into action, almost tripping over the blanket as she stepped towards him and the soup. “No, I’ll have it now. Haven’t eaten all day.”

They both looked at the clock on the oven and she didn’t even try to come up with an explanation for why she’d decided to live on tea and hard candies till four in the afternoon.

He didn’t ask, but pulled off his leather gloves and took the container out of the bag. When she took another step towards him and the soup, Barnes waved her off and said, “Go sit down, I’ll take care of it.” His voice gruff.

She made it several steps away from the kitchen before she turned back. “I have coffee if you want some.”

He paused, not quite looking at her, the soup in one hand and a spoon in the other.

“It’s that extra strong stuff that Steve likes, just collecting dust. You’d be doing me a favor if you drank some of it. Every time I try I end up bouncing off the walls.” She was weak, body and soul. Despicable, really.

He glanced at her, then away, then he nodded. “Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

Natasha tightened the blanket around her shoulders and took a step into the kitchen, but he waved her off again.

“No, I’ll take care of it.”

“Coffee, cups, machine.” She pointed at the cabinets in turn and nodded before turning away.

Her living room was at least more presentable than she was. There were half-drunk cups of tea on the coffee table and blanket were strewn over the giant sofa, but she was too sore to sit at the dining table, and the single armchair was piled high with books and unread reports. He wouldn’t want to sit there anyway, it had its back towards a window. She gathered the blankets and threw them in a pile at the end of the couch she planned on sitting in. The cups were collected but left on the table, she didn’t want to risk the kitchen again.

When Barnes entered, he’d left his jacket and boots in the hallway and Natasha realized she’d never seen him in socks before. It had always been some kind of footwear or nothing. It would probably have amused her if it hadn't reminded her of the times when it had been nothing.

He placed the soup, now in a bowl with paper towels and a spoon accompanying it, in front of her and sat down in the other end of the couch, cup in hand. “How’s the leg?”

“The leg is better. Healing.” The leg was itchy as hell, but she wasn’t going to admit that. She wanted his company, not his pity.

“You’ve got everybody worried, you know. Dropping off the map after spending so much time there.”

Well, she got Steve worried, that was for sure. Otherwise Barnes wouldn’t be here. “It’s good soup,” she said instead.

“Yeah, mama Alla makes good food.”

“I’m sorry. I have no idea what place you’re talking about.”

“Really? It’s under a mile from here. You’ve never been there?”

She shrugged apologetically.

“I’ll take you there sometime.”

Turning her attention to the soup, Natasha didn’t quite manage to stop the expressions flitting across her face.

“I mean, Steve and I have their take-out at least once a month. You could join in on the action.”

She was staring fixedly at the soup and didn’t see the look on his face, but the strangled sound he made was loud enough for her to hear.

She shoveled several spoonfuls into her mouth to buy herself some time, nearly finishing off the bowl, but before the silence became unbearable, she managed, “So how come you’re not with the others on the VA tour?”

He sighed, and she couldn’t tell if it was relief or annoyance. “I’m not much of a public speaker. And the whole former brainwashed assassin thing tends not to go over well with some people.”

Natasha looked at him and he met her gaze briefly before turning his attention to the coffee mug in his hand.

Words were cheap, but they were all she had to give. “It gets better. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but they’ll get used to see you on the side of the good guys, saving people, and forget about the bad stuff.”

Barnes didn’t argue, but his expression spoke volumes. She wondered how many people had told him that. Steve and Sam for sure, but he had to have more friends than them.

At least she could offer something Steve couldn’t. “You should work on that resting bitch face, though.”

He almost choked on his coffee. “So you’re saying I should be smiling while killing bad guys.”

“Well, maybe not smiling, but at least appear sympathetic as you shoot their brains out.”

“Duly noted.” The grin was wry, but it was good to see.

It loosened the knot in her stomach and made it easier to just talk with him. Like she wasn’t hiding this giant secret from him. Like he hadn’t stared at the scar on her shoulder like it was still bleeding.

Even with the missteps it was achingly comfortable yet at the same time completely unfamiliar to just sit and talk with him. What she and the Soldier had had was nothing like this. That had been stolen glances and secret meeting, no time to just be. And after, with Bucky Barnes, Natasha had never allowed herself to relax around him. And he hadn’t seemed interested in doing it either. They talked outside missions and mission-planning, but it was polite. At most pleasantries, since none of them had any interest in small-talk.

So what she hadn’t realized till now was how much Bucky Barnes could complain. And how entertaining it was to listen to. All you had to do was get him started. He barely stopped talking as he took her now empty bowl to the kitchen, topping off his coffee while he was there.

“I mean, you’d think he’d learn,” he said, gesturing with the cup, amazingly not spilling any coffee. “I get that as Captain America he has to live up to ideals an’ all. But people aren’t that good. And I’m not just saying this because I’ve spend far too much down-time catching up by reading news articles.”

“Never read—” Natasha began before he joined her for the last bit of the sentence.

“—the comments. Yeah, I know. I’m not stupid. But I’ve even gotten him to pick up groceries during rush hour. To really teach him how many bastards are out there, but he just waxes about people being stressed out about work, or money, or whatever.”

She laughed.

“I’m sorry to say it, but that’s not stress, that’s just people letting their inner assholes out in public.”

“Takes one to know one, huh?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, of course.”

Natasha could just sit here forever and listen to him complain. Except that the sore muscles of her calf were begging her to move, stretch. She did eventually, flexing slowly as to not interrupt his story. Barnes stopped anyway and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“The couch is big enough for you to stretch out on it. I won’t bite.”

She really shouldn’t. Not even when he said it was okay. Especially when he said it was okay. But she did anyway.

Between Natasha’s short legs and the wide couch there was enough room for her to sit sideways and stretch her legs without the risk of accidentally brushing against him. Not that it helped her find a comfortable position anyway. If she supported the injured leg by putting her uninjured one under the knee, aching muscles protested before long, and if she stretched out both, lifting the injured one off the couch by crossing her ankles, pressure was put on the still healing wound.

When she shifted her legs for the third time, Barnes sighed exasperated. Wrapped his hand around her ankle and in one fluid movement lifted her leg as he shifted his own, folding one up to sit fully facing her, before he deposited her foot on his knee.

As much as Natasha appreciated him letting her use his knee as her own private footstool, this was definitely a bad thing. A very, very bad thing. The warmth from his hand spread through her, melting her bones. And it was bullshit, but it was bullshit she should be allowed to have, because there wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t ache. Except maybe her ankle where his hand wrapped around it. And she almost smiled at the ridiculousness of it, but the worst, the very worst, was that she shifted her foot when he tried to take his hand away.

Actually, no. The worst was that he wrapped his long fingers around her ankle again, tightening his grip ever so slightly. Fuck.

Before her fogged up brain came up with anything to cover for the fact that she had just snuggled her foot against his hand, Barnes picked up his story again.

“Anyway, then Steve, the massive idiot that he is, decided to take on the Keane brothers. You know how you say some punk kids are the terror of the neighborhood?”

Natasha nodded dutifully, incapable of speech.

“They were it. They beat up little kids without big brothers to take their money or toys or whatever. And Steve wouldn’t have it. They were sixteen going on thirty and he was thirteen weighing about as much as your average five-year-old. There wasn’t any doubt that he’d lose that fight, the only question was how much it’d cost him.”

He shifted his grip on her ankle and she managed by some inhuman feat of mental strength not to move or stiffen when he rubbed his thumb along the side of her foot. He kept it up, running his thumb up and down, moving it slowly from the side of her foot to the underside and Natasha quietly resigned herself to the fate of never knowing how the thrilling tale of tiny Steve against the giant Keanes ended as he massaged the tension out of her.

She didn’t even notice how tired it made her. Or how she eventually drifted off.

What she did notice, when she woke up, was the absence. A giant Barnes shaped hole at the other end of the sofa. And how cold her foot felt without his hand on it.

The sound of the fridge closing reached her and she got up, leaving the blanket on the couch and making her way to the kitchen as quietly as she could. Barnes’ jacket and boots were missing from the hallway and she picked up a gun, cursing herself for falling asleep like that. She reached the kitchen and there was the missing jacket, slung over a chair and the boots on the feet of the man as he turned away from the fridge, his eyes going from the bags on the counter to her in the doorway. Guilt painted on every inch of his features.

Natasha couldn’t help but smile. The Winter Soldier was stocking her fridge. If that didn’t prove the inescapable nature of Steve’s insistent need to take care of everyone, she didn’t know what did.

“Um,” he said. “I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked like you needed the rest.”

Her body still ached, but her head felt clearer than it had in days. “How much is it?”

He frowned.

“The groceries. How much did it cost you?”

“You don’t have to. I’ve got compensation for like sixty years as a POW on top of what I make now. It’s not a problem.”

The top of the receipt was sticking out of the middle bag, Natasha napped it before he had a chance to stop her. “Okay,” she said and dug out more than enough to pay him and add a tip on top. She owed him enough as it was, she wasn’t going to owe him money, too.

He didn’t take them when she tried to hand the money to him, so she stuffed them in a pocket of his jacket and folded her arms over her chest. Barnes just shook his head and got back to loading her fridge. He didn’t look at her again until he was done and her standing in the doorway kept him from leaving.

It was awkward but somehow a more comfortable awkward than their previous encounters. She pulled at the hem of her shirt, steeling herself to look him in the eye. “I just wanted to thank you for coming over. It was kind of you.”

“’S not a problem,” he said waving her off with a tentative smile.

Because she was a coward, Natasha let him walk past her, even held the door open for him before she said, “But you shouldn’t let Steve push you around like that. I told him I was fine, he didn’t have to send you.”

His smile stiffened and faded. He nodded and turned away, walking down the hallway in long strides.

Natasha closed the door and failed to find any kind of rest before the sun came up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha reconsiders some recent choices, Bucky has opinions on Uber, and they finally talk about something other than Steve. And, you know, smut. Lots of it and graphic too.

Natasha returned to the Facility a few days after the fever broke. Going there was a bad idea, a moth to a flame and all that, running there an even worse one. Even though Wanda did most of the training and Natasha mostly just corrected her stances, it was enough of a drain that she barely stayed awake for her shower and fell asleep the second her head hit the pillow. But at least she slept like a baby. Only woke up because of a hunger insistent enough to rip her from her slumber.

She didn’t mind, though, the solution to that problem was straightforward and didn’t require much of her other than getting dressed and going out to face the world, gave her something to focus on, too. Only, her mood took a bit of a hit when he entered the lounge and opened the fridge.

The whole point of having a shared kitchen and lounge area was to give the Avengers somewhere to hang out and maybe eat. Food in any case. Right now, the content of the giant fridge consisted of a bag of somewhat wilted brussel sprouts, a bag of even more wilted spinach, milk, and various hot sauces. Not exactly what she had been hoping for.

“No luck finding anything?” Barnes’ voice came from only a few feet away and incredibly she didn’t jump.

“No luck whatsoever,” she mumbled, closed the fridge, and turned towards him. “What was the address of that Ukrainian place?”

He didn’t even have to look it up, just rattled it off right away. “You know how to get there?”

“I think so, but my Uber driver will for sure.”

He pulled a face.

She almost sighed, but she kept it in and her face neutral. “And what’s wrong with taking an Uber?”

“Having some rando pick you up.” He shrugged. “I’m not telling you how to live your life. I’m just...”

“Why would it be any riskier than taking a cab? I’m a big girl, I can handle myself.” Well, she could handle herself around people who weren’t walking reminders of what she had lost.

He narrowed his eyes at her but somehow didn’t look annoyed. “Fine. I’ll drive you.”

“Barnes,” she said, a little exasperated.

“It’s fine, Romanoff. I could eat, anyway.” His voice was rough, but the look in his eyes was soft. He might as well have knocked her unconscious and driven her there for all the choices he left her.

Natasha nodded and managed a smile. “Then thank you.”

 

* * *

 

His car, as big as it was, felt small with the two of them in it. His restless hands forever shifting on the wheel did not help in any way.

 

* * *

 

When they got there, he was greeted like a family member by the famous mama Alla. They were lead to a dark corner that could probably have been described as intimate and romantic if not for the company. All she had wanted was as much take-out as she could carry, and peace and quiet to eat it in.

Barnes ducked his head as mama Alla went to get menus, and said, like he could read her mind, “I’m sorry. You can just get yours to go. You don’t have to stay.”

Maybe it was because he gave her a way out, maybe it was because of the way he couldn’t look her in the eye while he did it, but she didn’t take it.

The food tasted even better now that she wasn’t dying from the flu and she enjoyed every single bite of it. Barnes, on the other hand, began pushing the rolls around instead of cutting into them not even halfway through the admittedly giant plate of kruchenyky and kasha.

“Aren’t you going to finish that? I thought you’d at least have seconds.”

“I’m kinda full. Had a pizza earlier,” he admitted. “Family size.”

“You’ve already eaten? Why’d you…” Natasha asked, not sure if she wanted an answer.

“I’ve had dinner. This is supper.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, leaning back. It looked like a challenge.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Was that a Lord of the Rings reference? You’ve read Lord of the Rings?”

“The man was stationed in France during the First World War and wrote them during the Second. It seemed relevant. And it’s great literature.” He shrugged.

“You read Lord of the Rings,” Natasha repeated, not even trying to keep the glee out of her tone of voice.

“You’ve got a problem with that?” A twitch of his mouth ruined Bucky’s otherwise dry expression.

“No, not the least. This is great.”

Since both were full, they decided to skip desert and Natasha paid for everything while Bucky was in the bathroom. Much to his obvious displeasure.

Afterwards, when they were standing outside the restaurant she half-turned and looked up at him. “Thank you for tonight, Bucky. I really enjoyed it.”

“So that’s what it takes to make you stop using my last name. Taking you out for dinner.” The grin playing on his lips bordered on rude.

“It’s not like you’ve used my first name.” She grinned back.

He looked at her like he saw right through the lie.

“You knew,” Natasha said slowly. “You fucking knew.”

He didn’t even flinch. Instead he licked his lips, his eyes going to her shoulder and her stomach before he dropped his gaze, staring holes in the ground. “I didn’t think I had the right. Not after…”

“Don’t do that. Don’t—” Her hands shook and she buried them in her pockets. There were people strolling by not four feet away and she had to keep her voice even to not attract attention. “I left you with them. Didn’t come back for you after.”

“Моя любовь, you could leave me a thousand times. Gut me and leave to die. If it meant you were safe, you wouldn’t hear a single objection from me.” He smiled when he said it and it broke her heart. Numb, she watched him look up at the sky. “It looks like rain, I should drive you home.”

“No, I— No.” Natasha shook her head to clear it. “I’m walking, I’m not— I’m walking.” She turned away, then turned back, about to say goodbye when she saw he had already fallen into step with her. She looked at him hard, but he returned the glare with infinite patience.

“I didn’t think you remembered me,” he said a few minutes later. “After you thought Steve sent me.”

She turned her head towards him, but didn’t look up, unable to meet his eyes. “I think we’ve already established that we’re both giant idiots.”

He huffed out a laugh.

Raindrops hit the pavement, dark splotches on gray. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her. “It’s not going to rain. I checked the weather while you were in the bathroom.”

They got within a few blocks of her apartment before the drizzle turned into rain. He shrugged out of his jacket and held it over them like they were in one of those stupid romance flicks that Clint always put in her Netflix queue when he was at her place.

Natasha’s shoulder bumped into the solid wall of muscles that was his side at every other step. While she could easily keep up with his long legs, even when hurrying to get out of the rain, it meant taking a lot more steps that he did. She sighed and wrapped her arm around his waist, to at least keep her from bumping into him all the time.

His mouth was only inches from her ear when he said, “Your weather app sucks. You should get a new one.”

She managed to get all the way to her front door without punching him. He crouched over her, keeping his body as well as his jacket between her and the now heavy rain while she punched in the security code. When the door sprang open, they stumbled inside, and he shook out his jacket, looking dubiously out at the torrent.

“Don’t be an even bigger idiot. You’re coming up with me. At the very least until the rain stops.”

He followed her like a shadow, sticking close as she made her way up the stairway to the floor with her apartment. He didn’t speak, not even when Natasha unlocked the door and lead him inside.

“Wait here,” she said and went to get towels.

He caught the towel when she threw it at him and began to dry off his sodden leather jacket, ignoring the white tee sticking to him like a second skin from the waist down, and the jeans that had been closer to blue than near black before.

“I have a hoodie you can borrow, but no pants that’ll fit you. Towels and my hairdryer will have to do.”

He shot her a wry smile. “I won’t catch a cold if that’s what you’re worrying about.”

It wasn’t.

Natasha turned away to fetch the hoodie. When she got it, it was clear it wasn’t going to fit him all that well. Clint had wide shoulders, it came with the whole archer business, but not as wide.

His fingers brushed against hers when she handed him the hoodie. They felt even warmer now that she wasn’t burning with fever and they drew her closer, rudely interrupting plans to retreat into the bathroom. She licked her dry lips and opened her mouth to make some joke to break the tension, but cool metal fingers traced the line of her jaw, pushing wet hair out of her face. Then his lips met hers and he kissed the air from her lungs.

It was a fair trade-off. She could go without air if it meant she had James’ lips on hers.

Her towel dropped to the floor as she reached for him, but before she could wrap her arms around him, he broke the kiss, pulling back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— I’m sorry.” His gaze flickered to her shoulder again. He wasn’t just talking about the kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, his wet shirt cool against her skin. “Don’t be.”

The unguarded look on his face as he cupped her cheek nearly bowled her over. Then his lips found hers again and she stopped thinking. James’ mouth was hot and hard against her, he was as hungry for this as she was. She wrapped her legs around his waist as an answer to his hunger. Stubble scratching her as she clung to him.

He managed to locate her bedroom even blind.

Natasha didn’t release her grip on him until he half stumbled, half sat down hard on the bed, so hard it broke the kiss, and she saw him looking up at her, pupils blown and lips red from kissing.

“James,” she said, swallowing hard to not gasp for air. “You sure you want this?”

“Fuck yeah.” Metal fingers curled around the back of her head, pulling her closer again. His breath wafting over her skin.

Who was she to argue?

She slipped her fingers up under his tee, or at least she tried to. The wet fabric stuck to his skin like it had been glued on. She gripped the hem but only managed to shift it up a few inches before it stuck again. James let go of her hips, leaned back, and pulled the tee over his head. It made a ripping sound. Natasha couldn’t tell if it was fabric tearing or just a seam giving in. Didn’t care enough to look.

“Good thing you have that hoodie,” he said, kissing his way down her neck to her collarbone, raising goosebumps all the way.

There were new scars on his chest and stomach, but the smooth shift of muscles was familiar. “Not sure it’ll fit you.” She rolled her hips to grind against him, just to hear him moan.

“’S okay, we’ll just have to go official after my walk of shame,” he said after kissing the grin off her face.

“Official?” She stopped dead in her tracks.

He pulled back, looking at her with eyes so blue she could drown in them. “If you’re okay with it.”

Official, as in official relationship. She hadn’t even considered that it was something other people had to be told about. Old habits die hard. “More okay than I’ve ever been with anything else in my life.”

James dipped his head and continued kissing her collarbone. “Don’t say that. You haven’t seen my collection of vintage beer mugs.”

Natasha laughed. “Your what?”

His kisses reached her breast. Even through the damp fabric of her top and bra, she could feel the warmth of his mouth and she forgot all about beer mugs, vintage or otherwise. He removed her clothes with more reverence than he did his own. And with more ease. Her jeans had elastics, his most definitely did not.

His left hand was as cool against her skin as the sheets were, but it had no problems sending sparks along her nerve endings. Just as he hadn’t forgotten her, he hadn’t forgotten how to make her writhe underneath him. Years fell away as he slipped a hand between her thighs, and she fell apart not long after, with his fingers inside her and a thumb on her clit.

He had always been good with his hands and she decided to show him just how good he made her feel.

It didn’t take much to push him onto his back and she straddled his thighs, farther down his body than he wanted, but she resisted his attempts to pull her closer. James drew in a sharp breath as she wrapped her hand around his cock. She enjoyed the weight of it in her hand, the tiny twitches as she stroked him up and down, the hard huffs of air as she sped up.

Far too soon, he wrapped long fingers around her wrist. “Natasha.” It didn’t sound like a plea, but she took pity on him all the same.

Shifting forward, Natasha lifted off to slide down onto him, closing her eyes against the stretch. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it just felt like she might tear if she made any sudden moves.

“Natasha,” he said again.

She opened her eyes and looked down at him, smiling when she saw the slight frown. “I’ve missed you.”

The frown melted away and he sat up, an arm around her waist as he shifted. “You have no idea.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck to show him just how good of an idea she had of it, Natasha kissed him, deep and hard. His stubble scratching her, his fingers digging into her hips as she began to move. They moved in unison. As in sync in bed as they had been on the battlefield or while sparring. His hands supporting her as she rolled her hips. Each giving as much as they are taking.

She shifted her grip to support her hands on his shoulders, leaning back slightly to enjoy how he looked as she rode him, lips slightly parted and hair damp and mussed. But James used the now increased space between them to slide a hand there, his thumb quickly dipping between slick folds. And that was just unfair. She was close enough as it was without him cheating like that.

Focusing was getting hard, keeping silent even more so, but she managed to clench around him as she rolled her hips. At least then she wasn’t the only one making desperate sounds.

Just as the coil of tension became near unbearable, Natasha gripped the side of his face, kissing him hungrily, desperately.

“Nat— Nat,” he gasped into her mouth.

She swallowed the words, and his moans as she fell apart around him, shuddering, his last few thrusts so hard she barely even managed to stay upright.

They slumped on the bed, neither willing to let go yet. Her body still buzzing with the recent orgasm as she stroked the fingers over the side of his face. James' arms keeping them close yet.

“Bucky didn’t work for you, huh?” he said when he caught his breath again.

She was sticky and sweaty, but she felt better than she had in years. She wrinkled her nose. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Whatever you say. Natalia.”

She began to laugh and couldn’t stop again. Not even when James rolled on top of her and tried to distract her with kisses, first on her face and neck, then moving further down.

 

* * *

 

When James and Natasha finally returned to the Facility, they met Wanda in the lounge. It took her a while to stop smirking, but eventually she told them that movie night was about to start. “If you can find the time.”

Okay, they had been gone for a couple of days, but they’d kept in touch. Intermittently. Texting mostly. Natasha’s eyebrow shot up nonetheless.

“Oh, no, no, don’t get me wrong,” Wanda said, not even attempting to sound sincere. “You two make a cute couple. I just think that maybe he’s a bit old for you.”

Natasha slipped an arm around James’ waist and said with a measured calm, “Believe me, he’s not.”

Wanda’s deadpan expression faltered under the weight of the questions that arose, but she didn’t get to ask any of them as Steve entered.

“You need help carrying? We’re about to start.” He looked at Natasha and James, at her arm around his waist, and his draped over her shoulders. “Okay. I see you have enough help as it is.”

“Don’t be an ass, Steve,” James yelled after his retreating back.

When the three of them reached the media room, carrying sodas and popcorn, Steve sat in the sofa he usually shared with James. James sat down next to him, Natasha following close behind, and Steve mumbled, just loud enough for them to hear, “I fucking knew it.”

James shoved him hard enough to spill popcorn everywhere, but neither made any more comments.

The couch was more than large enough for three people, but since two of the three were supersized super soldiers, Natasha didn’t have a lot of room to work with. After shifting several times, she finally found a comfortable position, resting against James’ side, her still itchy leg draped over his.

She put her hand on his chest, it rose and fell slowly beneath her hand while his heart drew her attention with every beat. The movie was probably interesting, she had heard good things about it at any rate, but it couldn’t compete with this.

James’ breath wafted over her hair before his lips pressed against it and she pushed closer, enjoying the weight of his arm wrapped around her. She was comfortable and completely at ease. She was home.

The last thing Natasha heard before she drifted off was Tony saying loudly to Pepper, “I don’t care. I’m not waking any of them up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time: I wrote this fic because of my inability to let go of the image of Bucky and Nat sleeping on a couch while the other Avengers were in the room with them. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Edited to add: [Stillgirlfrommars on Tumblr made this awesome illustration to go with my fic](https://stillgirlfrommars.tumblr.com/post/182162176331/it-feels-nice-though-doesnt-it-trusting), look at how cuddly they are. <3


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